


Kneel

by PinupGhoul



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark, Dom/sub, Fuck Or Die, M/M, becomes consensual, dub-con, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinupGhoul/pseuds/PinupGhoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets drunk alone and lets his guard down. He realizes too late that this is a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning, this has a definite dub-con scene in the first chapter. Humiliation comes into play a little, also, but the actual sex is consensual. Proceed with caution.

As he slumped, defeated, in the old armchair, the superhero contemplated his latest mistake over a glass of scotch. He swirled the little ice cubes around in the amber liquid, thinking about how he offended Pepper this time. He supposed she really was just looking out for his health, but honestly, did she think he couldn't handle himself?

Earlier that morning, Pepper had taken it upon herself to rid Stark Tower of every remaining drop of alcohol. She claimed it made him moody and hard(er) to get along with, so she poured every bit of it down the drain. At least, she thought she had gotten all of it. From a secret stash, Tony had rescued a few bottles, and set diligently to finishing them off in one setting. Pepper warned him that one day, when something did go wrong and the world needed saving, he would be "sitting drunk on his lazy ass" (that was a direct quote) and wouldn't be able to find his suit. It just so happened, on this particular evening, that she was right.

A deafening crash shook Tony from his stupor, making him slosh the drink onto his shirtfront. "What the-?" he wondered aloud, not finishing his statement of surprise. In from the shattered window strode a tall, dark, and handsome figure, who Tony instantly recognized. Loki, sworn enemy to the Avengers, out for world-dominating revenge on his big brother. Sometimes Tony wondered why Fury had even called them together; couldn't the gods solve their own family issues?

"Um, can I help you?" Tony asked sarcastically, earning a sneer from his enemy. The green-eyed man pointed a fierce-looking staff in his direction, having all the power to kill him in an instant. Yet, he hesitated, though his gaze lost no ferocity. Tony's golden-brown eyes were pinched shut in anticipation of sudden death, when the god lowered the weapon. Tony was puzzled, but still as cocky as usual.

"Well, that was unexpected." he said dryly, in no position to provoke the other. He always had loved the chance to tempt danger.

"I had hoped for a bit more…fight…from the 'infamous Iron Man'." Loki intoned. His voice was like black silk, smooth, cool, and dark. "No suit?" He sounded disappointed, as if he didn't want to fight the other unless he could make a game of it.

"Just jeans, I'm afraid. I wasn't expecting company." joked Tony, gesturing drunkenly to his alcohol-stained attire. He was silence by an icy glare. "Why are you even here?"

"If I told you, that would spoil the fun, now wouldn't it?" Loki practically purred. He draped himself gracefully across the length of a leather couch, propping boot-clad feet upon the expensive furniture. Tony didn't seem to notice; he was too startled by the other's sudden change of tone.

"Seriously," said a rather testy Tony, "what do you want?"

"Touchy, touchy…I only wanted to congratulate you on your plans." "What are you talking about?" Tony inquired warily, wobbling as he stood from his chair. The two bottles he had finished already clinked to the ground, sounding like wind chimes in the resounding silence.

"Isn't it true that your ragtag group has finally found a sort of solution they can agree on, you know, to kill me?"

"How did you-?"

"I have…sources." Loki replied, mischievous as always. He pushed his inky black hair from his eyes as he smirked. "However, Stark, I already had a plan. I'm afraid it may interfere a bit with yours."

In a matter of seconds, the lithe god had Tony forced back into his chair, and had gripped a gloved hand around his throat. Tony's eyes went wide. Pepper was right; it was all going to end like this, in the one moment he wasn't prepared. The hand not clutching his throat moved lower, to draw little circles over the surface of the arc reactor. Loki noticed as Tony flinched, trying to push him off, but failed miserably in his drunkenness.

"I take it this is important." he teased, twisting the glowing circle gently. The panicked amber eyes were shut tight in fear now, blocking out the sight, but not the pain.

"No-please! St-stop!" he begged, hating himself for showing this sort of weakness. Above him, in control, the god laughed a mirthless chuckle. It was obvious he was enjoying his position of power, and yet, something in the other's expression caught his interest.

"Very well. You are so easy to torture, do you realize? I shall have to think up something better." He emphasized the words by standing and pulling the drunk man to the floor. "As you should be, Stark. Kneeling before me." At first, the confused Tony assumed it was nothing more than a display of power, until he watched-in horror-as the other man slowly unzipped the front of his pants. He couldn't help but noticing a lack of underclothes beneath the black trousers, that were quickly shrugged to the floor. Tony tried in vain to back up, but his head hit the back of the chair, dizzying him further, if that was possible. A hand wound itself into his coarse brown hair, pulling him forward, as another hand held a grip on the arc reactor: a wordless threat that to disobey meant death. Tony had no choice, as he shamefully accepted the task before him. His mouth parted, tentatively taking the impressive length in between his lips. He wanted to gag, or bite down, or something, but the hand on his 'heart' left him with few options. He behaved as Loki wanted him to, as a slave. The concept was not new to the superhero, he thought, embarrassed. He was a man of pleasure, of life on the edge. Pushing the social norm was what he considered fun, though this was more of a torture. The man looming above him tightened his grip on Tony's hair, urging him to continue. Tony was actually quite skilled, although it wasn't he who possessed the nickname "the Silver Tongue".

After a few more seconds, the god grew bored and pushed Tony roughly off. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Loki spun him around, pushing him to the wall. He hadn't bothered to pull up his trousers, and instead, kicked them off casually.

The arc reactor clicked harshly against the wall as Loki pressed his slender body against Tony's, sliding down his jeans in a swift motion. Without thinking, Tony's body betrayed him as he groaned, his erection pressing against the unforgiving wall.

"Is this what you wanted, you sick bastard?" he managed, disgusted that his voice squeaked when he tried to speak.

"Not exactly." the god admitted, "But this will do." He grinned, grabbing hold of Tony's unblemished hips. His pale fingers would surely leave bruises by tomorrow. All part of the fun. As much as Tony wanted to fight, his body had more control than his mind at the moment. And it wasn't as if Loki was bad looking, by any stretch of the imagination. His drunken state made it easier to justify melding into the touches he was receiving from the other: first, light grazes with fingers along his thighs, then feathery kisses down his jaw line, as Loki left deviously visible red kiss-welts at his collarbone. Tony rolled his hips in desperation, seeking friction.

"Impatient, are we?" the mischievous one teased, moving his hand lower to grip the base of the other man's excitement. Tony's only answer was a low moan, which made Loki chuckle.

"All in good time, Stark." he smirked, "I want to see you beg. You were meant to be ruled, after all."


	2. Chapter 2

With Tony pressed so uncomfortably against the unforgiving cold wall, it was easy to see who was in control. Loki's hand, which was roughly working on the other man's excitement, would switch from being too rough, or teasingly light. Tony jerked backward, pleading with his body language, but this was not enough for the god of mischief. He wanted to hear the Great Tony Stark beg for release, so he stopped his motions altogether. Tony let out an undignified whine, then blushed, realizing how desperate he sounded.

"Why…why did you stop?" he questioned, his voice hoarse and low with an insatiable lust. He hated showing such weakness, but it was beyond his control now.

"No…" he moaned, pressing himself further toward the wall in an attempt to regain friction. He heard Loki's dark laugh behind him.

"Didn't you want me to?" Loki feigned innocence. "Or should I…continue?" He punctuated his words with feathery touches down the front of Tony's neck, tracing over the rising welts left behind from the merciless kisses. Tony groaned in response. "I only ask for one thing in return. That shouldn't be too terribly difficult, should it, Stark?"

The desperate man shivered as Loki whispered each word against his earlobe, teasing him to madness.

"What do you want?" Tony growled, getting so impossibly frustrated and aroused at the same time.

"I told you…beg." There was an amused seriousness to Loki's response, as though he was daring Tony to do as he said.

"I'm not your whore!" Tony spat, willing his body not to betray him.

"Is that so?" wondered Loki, calmly taking a few steps back from the other and pulling up his black pants. Casually, he turned away and began to walk toward the door, zipping his zipper as he did so. Tony's expression was an entertaining mix of horror and fury as he stared/glared at the god.

"But…I…" he stuttered, so horny it was painful, "Where are you going?"

"I gave you my conditions." reminded Loki as he slowly turned the doorknob. He knew how much power he currently held over the other, and he was relishing it.

"Wait!" Looking only at the ground, Tony knelt to the floor, his cheeks red with shame. "I…I need it."

"Prove it." Loki said simply, turning to face the submissive man.

"Please, master." Tony whispered, shaking under the force of his humiliation.

"Better."

Stark raised his head to meet the green eyes of the god, who was now only about a foot away. "I am but your servant." Despite himself, Tony found that the position left him even more aroused, if that was possible. He fell into character quickly, pleading the god for his every touch.

"Finally," smirked Loki, "a mortal who knows his place." Even as he said this, he could feel his own face flush, as though the room had suddenly begun to heat up. He lifted the other easily with a force of magic, slamming him harshly against the wall he had earlier stood against. In an instant, both were undressed, warm bodies pressed hotly together.

Loki slid his hands down Tony's chest, circling the arc reactor and trailing lower still, his hand wrapping once again around the other man's length. Tony gasped, pushing backward. He could feel Loki's need against his back (the god was quite a bit taller than Tony) and it left him wanting more. He barely had the chance to beg a final 'please, master' before Loki pushed into him, not wasting time to prepare him. Tony couldn't help but make a pained little whimper, clutching on to the shoulders of the god behind him. His hands moved higher, tangling in that ink-black hair as he held on for dear life. Loki, being immortal, after all, seemed to keep a harder-than-human pace, which left the mortal man breathless. He was cruel to his 'servant' as he pounded into him, ripping a pleasured, tortured scream from the drunken billionaire.

Tony gave in first, releasing with a shudder into Loki's still-gloved hand, holding himself up against the wall. It wasn't more than a minute before Loki followed, filling Tony with his essence. Eventually, he pulled out and caught his breath, readjusting his clothes and pulling up his pants. He did the same for Tony, who was still in a state of shock. If he had been more conscious, Tony would have thought the gesture was…sweet, maybe.

Leaving a kiss on Tony's forehead and a swirl of shadows, the trickster was gone. Exhaustedly, Tony flopped down in his chair, contemplating the last hour. Had he really just done that? Was he really so submissive? And, more importantly, how much begging would it take to be 'ruled' again?


End file.
